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Updated: June 8, 2025
The alternate drinking of rice-wine, by bridegroom and bride, from the same vessels, corresponds in a sort to the Roman confarreatio. By the wedding-rite the bride is adopted into the family religion.
While gloomily grieving over his hard luck, the faint odor of rice-wine seemed borne on the breeze. He snuffed the air. It was no mistake. "Here's luck, surely," said he, throwing down his bundle. Hurrying forward he saw a foaming waterfall tumbling over the rocks in a thick stream. As he drew near, some of the spray fell on his tongue.
Before them opened a broad field dotted with curious white disks, like bone buttons thrown on a green carpet. Near at hand, coolies trotted and stooped, laying out more of these circular baskets, filled with tiny dough-balls. Makers of rice-wine, said Heywood; as he strode along explaining, he threw off his surly fit.
Josiah slipped his into his pocket. I wuz mortified enough, but he said: "Of course he wants us to plant 'em; nobody but a fool would expect us to eat melon seeds or horse feed." I wuz glad Josiah didn't speak in China, I guess they didn't understand him. A rice-wine wuz passed with this, which of course I did not partake of.
And the aged patriarch about to pass away knows that loving lips will nightly murmur to the memory of him before the household shrine; that faithful hearts will beseech him in their pain and bless him in their joy; that gentle hands will place before his ihai pure offerings of fruits and flowers, and dainty repasts of the things which he was wont to like; and will pour out for him, into the little cup of ghosts and gods, the fragrant tea of guests or the amber rice-wine.
The nature of the public rites varied according to the rank of the gods. Offerings and prayers were made to all; but the greater deities were worshipped with exceeding ceremony. To-day the offerings usually consist of food and rice-wine, together with symbolic articles representing the costlier gifts of woven stuffs presented by ancient custom.
It survives to the present time, both in the Shinto and the Buddhist rite; and every spring an Imperial messenger presents at the tomb of the Emperor Jimmu, the same offerings of birds and fish and seaweed, rice and rice-wine, which were made to the spirit of the Founder of the Empire twenty-five hundred years ago.
It is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk.
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